


Not While I'm Around

by adi_rotynd



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-06
Updated: 2011-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 16:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adi_rotynd/pseuds/adi_rotynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt, having been tossed in dumpsters every day for years, suffers from claustrophobia. This is especially unfortunate for everyone involved when he gets stuck in an elevator with Finn and Puck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not While I'm Around

**Spoilers:** Up to 2.06.  
 **Warnings:** Claustrophobia, mentions homophobic bullying.  
 **Disclaimer:** RIB and FOX own everything ever.  
For [this](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_angst_meme/3065.html?thread=2925049#t2925049) prompt.

 

McKinley High didn’t often go in for field trips. Field trips cost money, and interfered with the vital business of churning out students who could either consistently pass standardized tests or at least do a back handspring. Worse, they were a minefield of opportunities to lose or injure a student whose parents would then sue the school. There were, however, rare occasions on which Figgins in all his magnificence saw fit to grant to some fortunate class just such golden opportunity, usually when someone made a donation reserved for the occasion.

Mr. Tyler’s art class had lucked out. Kurt had never been to the Wexner Center, and he was moderately excited; his interest in fashion necessitated an appreciation for modern arts. He was less thrilled about the bus ride over, partially because the seats were always a little sticky and it was too long to be stuck with minimally supervised people in his age group, and partially because Karofsky was in this class.

So in a way, the whole thing was Karofsky’s fault. Under normal circumstances, Kurt would not have double-timed it to skip past some poor girl in an unfortunate red sweater and get directly behind Finn in line to the bus, especially since Finn was currently applauding Puck’s efforts to wrestle the football player with the dreadlocks to the ground (god only knew why). Under normal circumstances, nothing short of Mercedes blackmailing him with exclusive information on how hard exactly he still cried during _Titanic_ would have convinced him to grab Finn’s sleeve and tug. And under normal circumstances, this conversation would not ever have taken place.

“Kurt?” Finn turned, glancing over his shoulder periodically at the fight and trying visibly to hit a balance between his glee/pseudo-brother persona, which demanded that he be concerned, and his QB persona, which demanded polite disinterest.

“Finn.” Kurt smiled. “I wouldn’t normally infringe upon your valuable reconstruction-of-popularity time, but would you mind if I sat near you on the way over and back? I’ll do your math homework later in exchange, to preserve the businesslike nature of our relationship.” Maybe a little bitter, because Finn could talk all he wanted about family, but if he was going to turn around and emotionally blackmail Kurt out of singing with Sam because of the icky gay…

“Dude,” Finn said, Prince Charming mode kicking in, “that’s super sad. You don’t have to do my homework to sit near me. Is something up?”

“No,” Kurt said quickly, because he could say Karafsky was making him nervous, but last time he’d appealed to Finn about that it had started a fight, and anyway, Finn was so far away from subtle. He’d start eying Karofsky and then the closet case might think Kurt had told Finn the whole story. “I just spent a half an hour on my hair, is all, and the likelihood of someone throwing spitballs in it reduces in direct correlation to how close together our seats are.”

“Okay,” Finn said, but Kurt was apparently more on edge than he’d realized, because Finn Hudson – _Finn Hudson_ – didn’t believe him. “If you say so. Sit with Puck and me.”

When they were actually getting on the bus, Finn asked Kurt loudly and abruptly if he could borrow his phone, and used this as cover to get Kurt ahead of him in line and shove him into the seat next to Puck, dropping down on his other side immediately thereafter.

“The hell,” Puck protested as Kurt crossed his legs and tried to take up as little space as possible in a seat made for two people rather than three (one of them Frankenstein-sized), cheeks burning. This wasn’t exactly what he’d meant by ‘near you,’ and unless they were dancing he wasn’t huge on being trapped between two large, aggressive boys who’d spent freshman year throwing him in dumpsters, but he wasn’t going to complain, given the alternative.

“I want to play Ninja Ropes, and Kurt’s phone has it,” Finn said, but nodded at Kurt and then jerked his head significantly toward the group of jocks, including Karofsky, which had headed to the back of the bus.

Puck rolled his eyes and shifted closer to the window, but the Bro Code appeared to have kicked in, since he didn’t say anything else.

The rest of the bus ride was uneventful, as these things went. People threw notes to each other, Puck spent most of it hanging over the seat in front of them to make out with a sophomore with dark hair whom Kurt didn’t recognize or over the seat in back of them to arm-wrestle some loud but generally inoffensive jock. Finn played games he’d downloaded onto Kurt’s phone and eventually fell asleep and drooled a little. Kurt sat ramrod straight and tried not to lean too close to Puck, who made him nervous, or Finn, whom he made nervous.

When they arrived, Kurt made a break for it, intending to stick close to Mr. Tyler and/or the tour guide for the entirety of the trip – maximum educational benefit, limited opportunities for death threats. Unfortunately, Finn’s there-and-gone-again knight in shining armor mode was, apparently, not so easily switched on and off at Kurt’s convenience. He sort of hovered around, like a moving pillar that smelled of pizza. And even that would have been fine if it hadn’t been for Puck.

Puck was engaged for the first exhibit, the Joel Morrison one, because of the animal’s jaw “encased in highly polished stainless steel,” which he proclaimed badass. Then they got to Gustavo Godoy’s monumental white sculpture. Kurt was fascinated, both by the structure itself and by the way it played into the building’s architecture. Puck was not fascinated. Puck was bored. And Puck spotted an elevator.

Kurt was unaware until Puck hissed, “Dude, breakout” and jerked his head at Finn, already ducking into the open elevator behind a separate group of tourists. Kurt rolled his eyes and turned back to the group, content to leave them to their goofing off. And Finn’s huge hands closed over his upper arms, marching him right along with them into the elevator. Puck punched the button for the top floor and the doors slid shut.

And this is all Karofsky’s fault, because normally Kurt wouldn’t have asked Finn to hang out with him, and normally the absolute last person Finn would want along on a jaunt with Puck would be Kurt.

“Either we find more dinosaur bones or I’m blowing this joint,” Puck said as Finn let go of Kurt, who pressed his lips together and clenched his fists and backed over to the wall, where he could see the red digital numbers switching behind Finn’s head. One. Oh god it was taking too long. Two. Okay, it was a slow elevator, fine. Two. Two.

The elevator stopped moving. The lights flickered.

“Oh, goddamn,” said Puck, and started punching buttons at random. “Give me a break.”

There wasn’t much space to begin with, and with Puck and Finn looming, it felt like there was none at all. “Try opening the door,” Kurt suggested tersely.

“In the middle of the tunnel?” Finn said dubiously.

 _“Please try the door._ ”

Puck held that button down with his thumb for a while to no result. “Aw, man. This _blows._ ”

“What do we do, like, yell and hope someone hears us?” Finn looked speculatively at the ceiling.

“No,” Kurt said. “No, please don’t yell. There should be a p – a button. For emergencies.” He backed into a corner, bracing his hands on the rails on either side of him.

“Lame,” Puck snorted, but hit it. Nothing happened, at least not that they could see or hear.

“How do we know if it worked?” Kurt could hear his voice going thin.

“Dunno.” Puck punched it a few more times.

“Stop. Stop, stop, that won’t help, it must have worked. I’m sure someone’s on their way.”

“Kurt,” Finn said, “do you feel okay?”

“Yes.”

“Whoa, Hummel. You gonna hurl? Because that would seriously make this worse.”

“I’m fine.” Only he was having trouble breathing slowly, which was integral to the not-panicking plan. And he was losing feeling in his fingers. Okay. That was fast. This was exactly why he hated elevators, this was his irrational fear. Possibly he was having a nightmare, because what were the odds, why _him_ , and why, god why with these boys…

“Kurt,” Finn said, and put a hand on his shoulder.

Kurt pushed his hand away. He meant to smack it, but his arm moved too slowly. “Don’t. Don’t either of you.”

“Hummel, will you chill? What is your deal?”

“I have debilitating claustrophobia, thank you so much for asking.” Saying it out loud made it worse. He wished he could take it back.

Puck rolled his eyes. “Of course the princess has fancy-word issues. You’re starting to freak me out, just relax.”

Kurt managed a proper breath. “You know, I was fine until I started getting _thrown in dumpsters_ every morning. Do you realize how hard they were to get out of freshman year? And now I get sweaty hands just walking into a building with more than four floors because of exactly this, so thanks, Puckerman, really.”

Puck opened his mouth, then closed it. “They’re just dumpsters,” he said.

“If you don’t stop talking, I will hit you,” Kurt said, enunciating carefully.

Finn looked a little sick. “We messed up your head?”

“God, Finn, you were throwing kids into dumpsters. Now you’re going to get upset because it had an adverse effect?” He looked at his watch and realized it was useless, he hadn’t looked before, it could have been five minutes or fifteen and he wouldn’t know. “How long has it been?”

Finn yanked out his phone to check the time. “Um, I dunno, a few minutes?”

“Oh god, phones. Finn call someone, you must have the number of one of the guys out there, just make them get us out.”

“Okay, okay, sure, just, um. It’s okay. Just… chill and I promise, I’ll take care of it. I’m so sorry. I’ll handle it.” He started flipping through his contacts. Kurt gulped down a sob, because other people sounding scared made it worse too, like he was right to be terrified and not having an illogical reaction to a basically benign situation, which was what was happening, they were fine everything was going to be fine.

“Is there anything that helps?” Puck had his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “Look, Hummel, it’s all cool. We’ll be out any minute. But in the meantime. Is there something you’re supposed to do?”

“No, shut up, I’m fine.”

“Thompson,” Finn said abruptly. “Dude! Puck and Kurt and I are stuck in an elevator. We were kinda skipping out of the tour. No, he didn’t! It just… stopped. Could you, like, find some security and have them get us out? Kind of quick? Thanks, bro.” He pocketed his phone. “He thinks you blew something up,” he informed Puck.

“I wish.”

“But he’s going to tell someone.” Finn looked at Kurt. “So even if the buzzer thing wasn’t working, they know. We’ll be out soon.”

Kurt nodded, lips pressed together.

“Tell me what to do. I’ll – like, whatever you need, dude, I’ll take care of it –”

“Finn. Stop.”

“Burt! I could call Burt. Would talking to him calm you down and stuff?”

“No – no, don’t, I don’t want him to know. Just – text that, that boy and make sure he’s telling someone.”

“Sure. Okay.” He fished his phone out again.

“Am I gonna sound like Rachel if I tell you to sing something?” Puck kicked the door of the elevator. “I mean, it could distract you.”

“Stop.” Distraction wouldn’t work. Or it would, it was the only thing that would, but trying to distract himself, even letting other people do it, only made it worse, only convinced his gut that there was something to be distracted from.

“I could sing.”

“No.”

“He’s got a security guard,” Finn reported. “They’re on their way. Kurt – look at me.” He sounded calmer now, relieved, as if he’d figured something out. “I know you’re scared, and I know we can’t make that go away, but I promise, nothing bad is actually going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

For a second, it worked. The blank, irrational, dizzying fear churning his stomach subsided because yes, he was completely helpless, and no, there was nothing he could do about the situation because if there were it would be _over_ , all he wanted was to make it go away and it just kept _happening_ , but. But this was Finn Hudson. And while he was over the crush and could, in retrospect, see that “dude, impulse control” and holding a few jackets during dumpster-tosses weren’t glowing character recommendations, there was always going to be part of his hindbrain that believed Finn Hudson could control the sun, moon, and stars.

But Finn saw it working, and grinned, Team Leader vibe fully restored, and put his hands on Kurt’s shoulders.

“Get me out,” Kurt said, shoving Finn’s hands away, because there was something else his hindbrain associated that with and it was less positive. “Get me out get me out get me out.”

“Don’t touch him,” Puck said.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Finn said, wounded.

“I know. I’m sorry. Text him again.”

“He told you before not to touch him,” Puck said, glaring, suddenly vicious. “It’s both of us freaking him out, you know, making it worse, not just _me_. You helped.”

“Kurt likes me,” Finn said defensively. “He forgave me for that stuff. And I didn’t see him going to you for help earlier. Karofsky’s just been picking up where you left off.”

“Of course Kurt likes you, everyone likes you, I like you,” Puck said, spitting the words. “You’re like a big, dumb puppy. What’s not to like? We both mess up, all the time, I’m not that much worse than you. You’re just the one people forgive, and I’m the one that gets sent to juvie.”

Finn’s mouth tightened. “What is your problem?”

“You! You don’t exactly have sex with Quinn and you get her and Beth, right up until you decide you don’t want them. You sing a few more solos and you get Rachel. You stand a little to the side of the bullying and you get Hummel in love with you for two years, well that’s great, Finn, but guess what? You still did this to him, and he’s still scared of you.”

“Stop fighting,” Kurt whispered. “You’ll use up the air.” It was too hot, it was definitely too hot. “Elevators aren’t sealed. We’re not going to suffocate. It’s fine. But. I don’t think a, a lot is getting in. Stop fighting.”

“Whatever.”

“Sure.” Finn dove back into his Mission: Text assignment, red-faced.

Kurt felt dizzy. A little less afraid, because there was only so long the adrenaline could last, but dizzy. “In the movies there’s a trapdoor in the ceiling,” he said. “I used to tell myself that if I ever got stuck in an elevator I’d just climb out the top. Then I noticed they mostly just have lights in the ceilings now. Irresponsible of film makers, I think. I mean, simplistic, antiquated, and harmful portrayals of gender identity and dynamics are par for the course, and vastly inflated ideals of what lengths the human body can be pushed to are to be expected, but I would have liked accurate elevators.”

“Yeah, totally,” Finn said, and examined the ceiling just in case. There was only a light. Kurt had checked.

He wondered how stale the air in an elevator shaft had to be and tried to take shallow breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Finn said. “I won’t touch you. And I meant what I said before. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Okay,” Kurt said. _“And I’m not gonna let anyone lay a hand on you”_ , Finn had said before, and Puck, _“Yeah? Can you take all of us?”_ and it hadn’t changed anything this year. He wiped his eyes. He had really needed to look more pathetic in front of Noah Puckerman. “I changed my mind,” he said. “I’m calling my dad.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Finn figured out later that they’d been in the elevator for about twenty-five minutes before it started whirring and clunking and let them out on the third floor.

He thought the ten minutes toward the end had been the worst. Kurt had tried to call his dad four times and hadn’t been able to manage it. Finn had placed the call for him, in the end, and then Kurt had talked for a while. He had sounded almost normal, voice too high and tight but not awful. And the whole time he had been silently crying, pressing a hand over his mouth when he wasn’t speaking. “Nothing,” he’d said impatiently a few seconds into their conversation, and then they’d talked about what Kurt was making for dinner and what they were going to watch on TV after and whether it was going to snow tomorrow. Kurt hadn’t said what was going on, and Burt hadn’t asked, after the first time, what was wrong or why he was calling in the middle of a school day.

And the whole time the air got more and more stale, all of them red and sweaty, and there was nothing they could _do_. Finn got how this could make a guy panic.

When the elevator started to move, Kurt had said goodbye quickly, promised to call back in a minute – “I’m with Finn, Dad, I promise everything’s fine” – and started taking deep, gulping breaths. He sounded like he was breaking down. And by the time the doors opened, he looked… like his voice sounded. Strained, unnatural, not good enough if you were paying attention, but… not awful. Close to normal. You’d have to pay attention and know him to see that something was really wrong.

There were apologies and accusations, because no one wanted to get sued but no one wanted to provoke the other side into suing them, either. Kurt did most of the talking for their team, and managed to make it sound like Puck had been sick and they’d been rushing him to the completely logical upstairs bathroom and did anyone here want his father to hear about this, because Kurt would be just fine with calling him right now and explaining that his son had been traumatized by an unsafe piece of heavy machinery but apparently that was all the kids’ fault. Puck contributed by looking constipated, or possibly as though he were in agony; Finn wasn’t sure which he was going for. Anyway, they weren’t in trouble at the end of the fight. No thanks to Finn.

Finn hung back and was treated to the weirdest moment he’d experienced in at least a few months: Karosky appeared behind him and grabbed his shoulder with a hand the size of a ham. “The hell’d you do to Hummel?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Finn shrugged his hand off, stepping back, toward the teachers.

“You guys in on some kind of conspiracy? He’s been crying, why doesn’t anybody notice?” Karofsky sneered at him. “You fag, you probably couldn’t wait to get him stuck alone with you.”

“Dude, what _is_ it with you? I have a girlfriend, would you let it go? Anyway, why is it so impossible for you to believe someone could be with Kurt for two seconds without jumping his bones?” Finn beat a retreat to the thick of the group, where Karofsky couldn’t harass him without calling too much attention to himself.

Puck sidled up to him. “What was that?”

“I thought Karofsky was over his obsession with me being gay, but he's talking crap about how I must have taken advantage of Kurt.” Puck shrugged, like that wasn’t the craziest thing ever, and Finn remembered where the Finn Loves Kurt jokes had started. “Never mind,” he muttered, and went to stand by Kurt, who had his phone out. “Do you need anything?”

“To sit down and put my head between my knees in order to facilitate blood flow because I’m about to pass out, and to finish texting my dad so that he doesn’t think I’m in the hospital and not telling him out of teenage perversity. Then probably to commit seppuku, because if there was anyone in the world I did not need to see me like that, it was you two.”

“Okay, um, I don’t know about that sep-ku stuff, but come over in the corner. I’ll call your dad and explain while you sit down.”

“On the floor?”

Finn was upset and guilty and kind of pissed, but he grinned at Kurt’s expression, which was the “a helmet will mess up my hair” one. “Just lean against the wall, then.”

Kurt grumbled even about that, but did it, handing over his phone and putting his hands on his knees.

“Am I allowed to tell him the truth?” _Am I allowed to not tell him all of it?_

“Just say we were stuck in an elevator and I had an appropriately dramatic attack of the vapors. He’ll understand enough.”

“Got it,” Finn said hesitantly, but called and said just that.

“Right,” Burt said. He sounded tired. “Is he okay now, Finn? Don’t lie to me because he wants to make sure I don’t relapse, a drive to pick up my kid isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“He’s pretty shaken up and stuff, but he’s gonna be okay. I can take care of him until we get home.”

Kurt lifted his head and raised a condescending eyebrow.

“He gonna be pissed if I come up there anyway?”

“He’s pissed at me for saying I’ll take care of him.”

“Alright. Call me if anything changes.”

“Will do. Bye.” He pressed the screen until it seemed like the call had been disconnected and handed it back to Kurt. “So, um, can we talk? About this?”

“I’m not going to tell my dad,” Kurt said wearily. “You’re fine.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m glad, because I don’t like getting in trouble, but that’s not what I meant. I wanted to apologize. We were just messing around, but that’s not what it was to you, and it was stupid not to think… yeah. Throwing people in dumpsters is a crappy thing no matter what and I’m sorry I ever did it, especially to you.”

Puck bumped Finn’s shoulder, having popped up behind him at some point during his speech. “Yeah, what he said, Hummel. I mean, it sucks that it screwed your head up.”

Kurt straightened up. “Apologies accepted.”

“Really? Cool! Okay, so… Good. Come on, we’ll get a good seat on the bus.”

“No,” Kurt said softly. “I’m not actually worried about Karofsky right now, so… I’d like some time on my own.”

“But – you’re upset. I can, you know, help you calm down.”

“You _really_ can’t.” Kurt stepped away from the wall, straightening his clothes. “Finn. You make me feel safer than Dave Karofsky. That doesn’t make you my security blanket. And after… what just happened – it’s nice that you’d like to help, but the best thing you can do for now is leave me alone.”

Finn watched Kurt march past Mr. Tyler, phone out again, probably texting Mercedes or someone else who didn’t scare him. “I’m practically his brother,” he said. “I should be able to help. I can help.”

Puck snorted. “Cry me a river. So sometimes you don’t get to be the knight in shining armor, just less bad than the other option.” He hunched his shoulders, and Finn remembered when they’d been really close, when Puck like this was his responsibility, but he was already walking away, tossing over his shoulder, “Welcome to the world.”


End file.
